


Dreaming

by sudapigrafool



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: M/M, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sudapigrafool/pseuds/sudapigrafool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Authorship: Polydeuces<br/>Summary: "Alexander" era. Eamon’s POV. Colin and Eamon have gone out together for the evening. A confusing exchange of signals ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming

He’s something to see in action, this brother of mine. Melting hearts from pole to pole like a one-man global warming phenomenon. Ask around and people will tell you, with a few beers in him, he’ll cheerfully turn that roguish charm on nearly anyone. Even some of my friends, which has caused more than a few problems over the years, I can tell you. I guess he made quite a first impression on LA, too, back when. Some of his difficulties with women I’m sure you’ve heard about by now. Others we’ve managed to keep out of the rags. There are still a few stories they tell around that might strain your credulity a bit should you ever get to hear them, but that’s not to say those things didn’t happen. Whenever I remind him of any of this, he just laughs.

You might wonder, I suppose, why he’s so out of control.

Well, I guess any question of control is a bit relative. Because there’s this one thing that’s never, ever happened--at least not yet--and Colin can’t even imagine it. Not at this time. Would you call that "control"? The things about yourself you refuse to look at? I can see the future in his eyes, though, this very minute; dark, agitated, and inviting. Just like I’ve seen it so many times before whenever it slips out of his shadow, like a solitary predator prowling around me, stopping to stare; hungry, mistrustful, and lonely. Haunted and anguished and searching for another of its kind.

I know it like I know my own soul.

He leans across our table towards me, leering and murmuring something filthy about a fellow he’s spotted at the bar. One too many beers has loosened the last stop on his tongue again. I spy the tight, shapely ass he’s referring to, snugly packaged in an even tighter pair of black leather pants. No, I tell him. I know what it takes to get into a pair of those things, I say, shaking my head. It would be even more trouble getting him out of them.

"Huh," Colin says, as once more his plans for me are thwarted. I can’t help but think he doesn’t look very disappointed, although it’s his third suggestion I’ve rejected so far tonight.

"Picky, aren’t we?" he grumbles, testing me. And suddenly I think I can hear that lonesome beast purring a little more hopefully.

"Alright." I lean back in my chair, challenging him. I cross my arms over my chestand offer him a dare. "Who would you pick to go home with?"

I’m expecting a quick retort, but all I get is his Guinness-sodden snort.

"Pretend you’re Alexander," I say in an exaggerated way. We’ve been playing at this game a lot recently, waiting for Oliver Stone’s production to get off the ground. "You can have any guy here that you want. Who’s the fairest of them all?"

First, Colin’s glance flicks down the bar and over the tables he’s already assessed several times this evening, supposedly on my behalf. Then, he makes a large, dismissive gesture with his hand.

"Caw," he grunts, grinning slyly and setting his slightly bleary gaze on me. "You know you’re the best looking bastard in the room."

It amazes me that, aside from the touch of humor, his face is so guileless and unassuming. That he still can’t hear himself. Once again the shy predator has retreated anxiously into its lair, unwilling to savage the truth.

"Well, let’s go then," I answer smoothly, not quite ready yet to surrender the issue myself.

But, he doesn’t hear the implication in that either. He rises a trifle unsteadily and shrugs into his jacket, thinking I mean I’m calling it a night. Maybe I am. Then again, maybe tonight I’m not.

As we slide out the door towards the street together, he bums a cigarette. It’s been raining outside while we were dithering the night away inside, and I let him borrow my lighter too. So he can give himself lung cancer, I’m thinking ironically, because all the while, I’m tugging up the collar of his jacket protectively lest he catch a case of pneumonia in the damp.

By the dim light, I see him lower the glowing tip of his cigarette away from his lips, and he leans into me weaving slightly in the darkness. When I lean back to steady myself against his weight, he closes his eyes and presses his face against my cheek.

"Give me a lift home?"

His lips move warmly and wetly over my skin. He is so helpless in this state, dreaming and not waking. If I kiss him now, I know his eyes will open, and he will see.

"Sure," I say gently, putting a steadying hand under his arm. Counterbalancing his simple request with the weight of want in my heart. Knowing this is all he really needs from me at the moment. That I not let him fall, that I keep him warm and safe beside me, and that once again, I let him sleep peacefully through his dark night.

\--end--


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